


Whiskey & Trouble

by YouCantKeepMeDown



Series: Mafia Archangels [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternative Universe - Mafia, Bartender Dean Winchester, M/M, Mobster Michael, cheesy flirting, mention of murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 08:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12979659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouCantKeepMeDown/pseuds/YouCantKeepMeDown
Summary: Dean's bar is not in the best part of town, and sometimes there are shady people among his patrons.





	Whiskey & Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the SPN AU and Trope Bingo for the square Bartender!Dean.  
> And I'm sorry for the cheesy flirting, but let's all remember that it's canon that Dean uses the "This coffee is hot" pickup line. So it's totally not my fault.
> 
> Also, thanks a lot to my wonderful beta reader [coplins](http://archiveofourown.org/users/coplins).
> 
> Edit: There's art now thanks to the very wonderful and talented Askatosch! [Klick here](https://askatosch.tumblr.com/post/168439113564/a-scene-from-spnyoucantkeepmedowns-mafia-michean).

It’s a busy night at the _Winchester’s – Bar and Karaoke_ , and behind the counter Dean is pouring one drink after the other, barely even making a show out of mixing cocktails, because there isn’t time for fancy shit like that. That’s probably why he doesn’t notice the small group that sits at the corner table close to the bar right away. He should’ve, because they look like trouble.

He only sees them, when Kevin hands him a note with their orders and points at the table. He notices the woman first, because beautiful women just tend to catch his eyes, and she has ebony skin and high cheekbones and looks like fucking royalty. So does the white dude with black hair in her company, if Dean’s honest. He’s as least as beautiful as her, too. The other two – less so. A blond guy with piercing blue eyes seems more rugged, but spells out danger with every movement. And then there’s the smallest of the bunch, leaning back with a happy smile, lollipop in his mouth. But if you can be that much at ease in company like that, you have to have some aces up your sleeve.

“They’re trouble,” Kevin whispers nervously. “Judging by the way they stopped talking when I came near. And the blond one gives me the creeps.”

“Want me to bring them their drinks?” Dean asks.

Kevin nods relieved. “I can take over the bar for a moment.”

“No problem, kid.” That’s the policy here. Someone scares the waiters or is rude to them, Dean takes over. Most people aren’t rude to him for long.

He hurries to get their drinks ready – one fruity cocktail, one glass of very expensive dry red wine, whiskey for the rest of them – puts them on Kevin’s tray and head towards the corner table.

They do stop talking, before he gets close enough to overhear anything. It’s a bit eery. Only the blond guy looks at him, though. Dean feels like he’s judged and categorized, before he even reaches to table.

The smallest one pops the lollipop out of his mouth. “Did we scare off the guy who took our order?”

“Probably shouldn’t have flirted with him, Gabriel,” the woman says.

“It’s called smiling and being friendly, Raphe. You should try it some time. Even Mike can do it, if he wants to. Even Luci can. In theory. I’ve seen him do it once.”

“Wasn’t worth the effort, though,” the blond guy chimes in.

Dean fights to not show his amusement. He balances the tray on one hand, puts the cocktail in front of lollipop guy – Gabriel apparently – and is about to put the wine in front of the woman – Raphe? Whatever – because it’s mostly the women who order wine. But then he looks into her face and decides she’s more the whiskey kind of person. So the wine goes to the dark haired man – Mike apparently. His face really is a piece of art up close – and the last whiskey to blondie – and what kind of name is Luci anyway?

Luci frowns and Mike reaches out, takes the whiskey from him and hands him the wine instead. Dean lifts an eyebrow. Doesn’t happen often that he misjudges who ordered what.

Mike – Michael probably – leans back with a smile. “You underestimated how much of a drama queen my brother can be,” he tells Dean. It happens even less often that someone actually catches on to him assigning drinks by personality.

Lucifer huffs. “Sure ... I can’t just like wine.”

“I totally didn’t ...” Dean starts to protest, but the way the corners of Michael’s mouth twist into another smile makes him stop. He clears his throat. “Well, let me know, if you need anything else. I’m the one responsible for your table now.”

“We really did scare the other guy off, didn’t we?” he hears Gabriel say, while he walks back to the counter.

“You’ll scare this one off, too, if you keep staring at his ass.”

“You calling dibs, Mikey? Aww, of course you do, you smiled for him.”

“Sometimes I smile, Gabriel.”

“Yeah, like once a year or something.”

* * *

The evening progresses peacefully enough. Whatever the group on the corner table is talking about, they still stop every time someone comes near, and Dean is pretty sure, when Luci leans back at one point, he can see a gun holster underneath his jacket. But as long as they just sit there and drink and talk, everything is fine.

Then a new group lead by a red headed woman walks in, and none of the four people on the corner table tenses visibly, but there is an air of caution about them all of a sudden. The woman nods at them and they nod back and not even Gabriel is smiling now. Someone in the woman’s group makes a lewd gesture in their direction and her companions laugh. Michael puts a hand on Luci’s shoulder, even though the man hasn’t moved visibly. Raphe glares murder until the guy who made the gesture looks away.

“If anyone is making trouble for you,” Dean says, when he comes to take empty glasses from the corner table, “let me know and they’ll be kicked out.”

Michael lifts an eyebrow in surprise.

“Listen, I know you’re probably trouble too,” Dean says, “but you’ve been sitting here peacefully. Them?” He nods towards where the redhead is wolf whistling after Kevin right this moment. “They’re close to getting kicked out anyway.”

“I wouldn’t try that, if I were you,” Michael says. “But …” He shares a quick look, first with Raphe, then with Gabriel. “This has been a nice evening and we’d like to come back here.” Michael’s gaze lands on Luci. “We should help our host out, what do you think, Lucifer?”

Lucifer is even worse than Luci as a name, but it kinda fits the guy. The blond man grins. “I’ve been waiting for you to say something, brother.” He gets up and starts to walk towards the redhead and her company.

Before he can get far, though, Dean grabs him by the arm. “Thanks for the offer, but no fighting in here.”

Lucifer glares at him, then drops his eyes to where Dean’s hand is on his arm, but Dean will be damned, if he lets go now.

“No fighting,” Michael says with a smile. “I promise.”

For a moment they look at each other, and Dean finds himself wondering, if it’s true that Michael usually doesn’t smile that often. It’s a beautiful sight, that much is for sure.

Only when Lucifer clears his throat, does Dean remember he’s still holding the man by his arm. Finally he lets go. The blond man scowls at him, before he moves away. Dean turns to watch him with worry. Lucifer’s whole body language is one big provocation now. But he only talks to the readhead for a moment. She laughs in a derogatory sort of way, but then she nods to something he said. More lewd gestures from her companions follow him back to their table. Lucifer nods to Michael, and all of them get up at once.

Michael hands Dean a fifty dollar bill, which is more than what their drinks have been worth so far. For a moment their fingers brush, and a tingling feeling shoots up Dean’s arm, which totally shouldn’t happen. Sure, the guy is hot, but he’s trouble, too.

Then they’re gone and miraculously enough redhead and her goons trail after them soon.

When Dean returns behind the bar, Kevin heaves a sigh of relief. “Crowley says the woman’s name is Abaddon and she’s leaving a string of murders throughout the city right now, but no one can prove it.”

Fuck. Yes, it’s probably a really good thing that Dean didn’t have to throw her out personally. He kinda worries for Michael and his companions now, though. “Crowley’s here, too?” he asks. Dean is pretty sure Crowley is also dealing in some illegal business and he seems to have a thing for Kevin. That’s way too many troublemakers for one night..

The young man nods. “I can deal with him, though, don’t worry.”

“Fair enough. What else did Crowley say?” Yeah, okay, maybe Dean is curious, and maybe that’s at least in part because he still feels Michael’s touch, but so what? It can’t hurt to know more.

Kevin shrugs. “Well, the other guys ... The ones you waited on ... He says those are the archangels. Don’t look at me like that, that’s what they’re called on the street, because of their names. Michael, Lucifer, Gabriel, Raphael. High level organized crime. Better to stay away from.”

Well, that fits what he had seen. “They seemed mostly nice,” Dean says anyway.

Kevin huffs in amusement and gives him a skeptical look.

“What?” Dean asks. “You’re the one talking to Crowley.”

“Crowley is afraid of those guys, Dean.”

“Is that supposed to make me like them less?”

Than makes Kevin laugh.

* * *

It takes a few days until it’s in the news. Dean is reading it in the paper one afternoon when there aren’t many guests and he has a bit of downtime between preparing drinks. There had been a gunfight in an alley not far away from here. Five dead, more must’ve been injured. It’s the same evening Abaddon and her gang had been making trouble in the bar, and Dean recognizes one of her companions on the pictures of people who died there. She isn’t among them, though, and none of the archangels is. The later makes him happy for some reason.

When he sets down the paper, there’s a man sitting at the bar right in front of him, dark hair, face a fucking piece of art. When Michael is sure he has Dean’s attention, he smiles. Then his eyes fall on the article Dean has been reading, and the smile fades away. Instead he looks at Dean as if he’s trying to discern what he’s thinking.

Well, Dean thinks some people had it coming. He isn’t particularly sad about troublemakers not coming back to his bar any time soon.

“Whiskey?” he asks Michael.

That brings the smile back. “A bit early for whiskey, don’t you think?”

“You look like you want one anyway.”

“True.”

“Trouble?” Dean asks, while he pours the drink.

“Not for much longer.”

Fuck, Dean really has a thing for confident people, and Michael basically is confidence incarnate. Even if he is technically ... maybe … very likely ... talking about murder. Dean glances at the newspaper again, and Michael follows his eyes looking almost curious now. As if he’s still waiting for a reaction to the news.

Dean puts his order in front of him. “It’s on the house. Small thank you for the favor you did me.” Maybe that’ll help clear it up.

Michael’s smile is something he could watch all day. “You’re welcome.” He takes the glass and watches the golden liquid swirl inside it for a while. “You know, Dean,” he says after a while, and Dean doesn’t ask how he knows his name. “There are still a lot of people out there looking for trouble. In fact there are more and more of them as we speak. This kind of favor could be a regular thing.”

“I’m not paying protection money.”

Michael makes a face at that. “Do I look like someone collecting protection money?”

No he doesn’t. He looks like he’s quite a few pay grades higher than that. And maybe that’s a reason to worry, but maybe that’s a good thing, too. Dean leans against the counter across from Michael and gives him a slow once over now that he’s practically invited to do so. Yeah, the guy is trouble, but apparently he has taken an interest in Dean anyway, so why not try and see how far this can go? “Didn’t know there was an upper limit to how hot you’re allowed to be for that kind of job.”

That makes the corners of Michael’s mouth twitch. He leans forward himself, close enough that Dean can smell his aftershave. “I want to make you an offer.”

“As long as it’s not the ‘We’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse’ kind of offer, I’ll listen,” Dean says. He isn’t stupid. He knows this part of town is getting worse. If he can come to some kind of agreement with one of the fractions that are unofficially ruling it, that might not be a bad thing. “Don’t try and screw me over, though.”

Again, the corners of Michael’s mouth twitch.

Dean wouldn’t have pegged him for the kind of guy to find this funny, but that’s a pleasant surprise. Always a good thing to know the people you’re dealing with have a sense of humor. He grins. “Not that kind of screwing. I’m totally up for that later – if I like what you have to say.”

Michael’s eyes twinkle in amusement. “In that case I’ll try and make it an especially good offer.”

“Can you do that?” Dean asks curiously. “What’s your boss gonna say about that?”

Michael just quirks an eyebrow up as if that was a stupid question. And it dawns on Dean that he might have slightly underestimated how high in the hierarchy the ‘archangel’ is.

“Fuck,” he breathes. This is going to be very interesting.

“Business first,” Michael says with another one of his smiles.

Very interesting indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Because my bingo card has a ton of mafia prompts, there'll be more fics in this verse.


End file.
